


Behind the Name

by The_Adventress123



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, He's referred to as William for the first half of the fic, I wrote this at midnight so don't judge me, Kidlock, May be confusing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:57:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1346611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Adventress123/pseuds/The_Adventress123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Sherlock and John there was another set of friends.<br/>When Sherlock grew up she was always there. When he was William, she was Ingrid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind the Name

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn't read the tags or summary, Sherlock is referred to as William for most of the story. That's all I have to say.

Ingrid sat alone at lunch. She always had, ever since she could remember, and she was in her third year at primary school. She was a beanpole child, tall and thin with wispy brown-blond hair and sharp blue eyes that sparkled with gold around the iris. She heard shouts across the schoolyard. Though she knew it meant the other girls would have a chance to catch her, she went to see what it was.   
There was a crowd forming around a boy named Matthew and the new boy. She'd already forgotten his name, but she knew she liked him. "It's not my fault your parents are getting a divorce," the new boy said calmly, "Why else would they buy you a brand new TV when it's very obvious that they can't afford it?"   
She nearly made a sound as Matthew's face turned bright red. He launched forward towards the new boy. Ingrid couldn't help it, she ran full speed into the new boy, knocking him out of the way of Matthew's fist.   
Matthew punched the thin air so hard that he toppled forward landing hard on the pavement. As he picked himself up Ingrid felt the new boys hand take hers. "Run!" He whispered into her ear. She didn't need to be told twice. They bolted off, running over the grass and pavement until they pounding of feet behind them fell away into silence and they knew they were alone.   
"I'm William by the way," the boy said once they caught their breath, "William Sherlock Scott Holmes."  
"Ingrid Enora Foley," Ingrid replied.  
"I'm a pirate captain," William told her.   
"Can I be a pirate to?" Ingrid asked.   
"Do you promise to honor your captains word?" William asked  
"Depends on who the captain is," Ingrid replied  
"It's me," William told her.  
Ingrid nodded. "I promise to honor your word as my captain. As your friend, I shall do no such thing."  
"You're my friend?" he asked, scrunching his nose in confusion.   
"Obviously you've never had many friends," Ingrid told me, "But you do have a dog, don't you?"  
William nodded. "You have two cats and an older sister."  
Ingrid nodded. "You have an older brother."  
"Alright," William said, "we're friends. I deem you smart enough."  
Ingrid smiled back.   
~~~~~  
Over the months that followed and led them into spring, the two grew closer. William and Ingrid would run through the Holmes house, staging mutiny against his brother Mycroft, pissing him off to no end, or pretending to be pirates with Redbeard the dog as their equal and honest captain. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes loved how Ingrid influenced William. With her around he was nicer to people, unless it was Mycroft. It got to the point where Ingrid all but lived at the Holmes house. Her parents joked that they should pay the Holmes family child support or something.   
They remained the best of friends for years. Growing closer than ever, and never letting anyone but the other call them by their code names. In their first year of secondary school, William did something insane, and Ingrid definitely saw it coming.   
“Ingrid?” he asked, “You want to be more than friends.”   
Ingrid blushed light pink. “You do to,” she told him.   
“Should we be a couple?” he asked.   
“We already are,” Ingrid answered.   
He handed her back her books and she took his hand. “We should go on a date,” she said, “That’s what every other couple does.”  
“How about we go to that nice little Asian restaurant,” William suggested.   
“I like that one,” Ingrid said.   
He smiled down at her. Although she was tall, he was still somehow taller.   
“Friday, Eight ‘o'clock?” he asked.  
“Friday, Eight ‘o’clock,” she confirmed, smiling broadly.  
~~~~~  
Friday, as William started out the door, Mycroft stopped him.   
“You’ve grown sentimental little brother,” he said coldly, “It’s not healthy.”  
“Shut up Mycroft,” William told his brother, “At least I’m not antisocial.”  
“She’ll break your heart,” Mycroft told him, “Then where will you be?”  
“She’s never broken my heart before,” Sherlock replied, “And I fully trust her not to.” With that he was gone, leaving Mycroft frowning in the doorway.   
~~~~~  
William looked at the menu again. He already knew what he was going to order, but he refused to order until Ingrid showed up. It wasn’t like her to be late and it had been nearly twenty minutes since they were supposed to meet.   
“Are you going to order yet?” demanded his waitress. She was pretty, but wore far too much make up.   
“Not until Ingrid gets here,” he said.   
“You got stood up,” the girl said sourly.   
“No,” William replied, not bothering to hide his irritation, “You got stood up and dumped yesterday,” he flicked his eyes over her, observing a badly hidden bump and the slight smell of vomit. “Probably because you’re pregnant and don’t want to acknowledge it.”   
The waitress immediately walked away. He put down his menu and looked to the doors of the restaurant. Where was Ingrid? She was never late, never. His phone rang. Why was Mycroft calling? He answered.   
“William,” Mycroft said, his tone guarded, “You need to come home.”  
“What happened to Ingrid?” William asked, already knowing something had happened.   
“Mom will tell you when you get home,” Mycroft said, not denying that it was Ingrid.   
“What happened to Ingrid?” William shouted into his phone, drawing stares from surrounding tables.   
“I’m sending someone to come get you,” Mycroft said, “they’ll be there in five minutes.”  
“Mycroft I’m not leaving this table until you tell me what happened to Ingrid,” he growled.   
Mycroft heaved a heavy sigh. “There was a car crash,” he said, “She didn’t have a chance.”   
William’s heart dropped, his mind racing to what he didn’t want to understand. “You’re lying” he said before shouting it, “You’re lying! You always lie!”  
“Not this time little brother,” Mycroft said his voice on the edge of cracking, “I am so very sorry.”  
William didn’t respond. He couldn’t respond. He could see his brothers car outside. He stood up and left, his entire body numb, not wanting to believe what Mycroft said. “He lies,” he muttered to himself, “Mycroft always lies. He always lies.” He got in the car without thinking about it, and never went to the restaurant again.  
~~~~~  
He almost didn't go to her funeral. It was closed casket, her body had been severely damaged in the crash. William stood and stared at his reflection in the polished wood.   
He tried to picture her. Her brilliant, soft yet sharp, brighter than the summer skies, blue eyes. Her once mousy brown hair that had turned thick and light brown-blond as she'd grown older. Her bean-pole frame that had filled into one of the most beautiful bodies in the school. The smile, that bright, beautiful, interesting, curious smile. The one with the lips that were soft and rarely emotive, but when they were they could tell stories without making a sound. Her hands that held his when they were little; the long, nimble fingers that he'd taught to play the violin. The hands that he wanted to hold once again.   
No one spoke to him. They left him standing next to her casket until the ceremony started. His mother lightly touched his shoulder, and he followed her to his seat. The funeral took place in the local church. William knew Ingrid was not religious herself, but he told her parents how much she'd loved the church. She had seen it's beauty in a way he never understood, but had always tried to.   
It was his turn to speak.   
"Hello," he began shakily, looking out across the rows of family and friends of family, him being Ingrid's only truly close friend though several girls she sometimes spoke to had showed up.   
He looked down at his notecards. They had been written by Mycroft because he had refused. He turned them over and ignored them. "Anybody who knew Ingrid knew me," he said after a few breaths, "My name is Sherlock Holmes, and I was Ingrids best friend." He didn't tell them they had decided they were dating, that information was his alone. "We were inseparable in every sense of the term. I still remember the first day we met. We were both bullied, so we decided to run away and become pirates. This of course didn't work out since our base of operations was her barn." He paused as the crowd allowed themselves to laugh. "I knew her every secret and she knew mine. I knew that she wished her first name had been Enora, as she knew I wished mine was Sherlock. She was smarter than anyone I had ever known, especially my brother, Mycroft, and so beautiful that I have nothing to compare her to. I only wish she were here to hear me say how much I loved her." He felt a tear run down his cheek as he walked back to his seat.  
When the funeral was over he locked himself in his room and refused to respond to any name other than Sherlock.   
~~~~~  
Two weeks after the funeral, his mother finally had him go back to school. He wandered through the halls, acutely aware of all the other students stares. A boy he vaguely remembered approached him. “Hey William,” he said, “I’m sorry for what happened...” he never finished. Sherlock punched him hard in the nose.   
“YOU ARE NOT SORRY!” he screamed, “NONE OF YOU! None of you knew her, none of you cared about her.”  
“William,” a teacher gripped his shoulder.   
“Don’t call me that,” Sherlock cried, knocking her away, “That’s not my name.”  
“What are we supposed to call you then?” a girl mocked.   
“Sherlock,” Sherlock said, “Only Ingrid is allowed to call me William.”   
“That’s a stupid name,” said the boy he had punched. It only earned him another fist to the nose.   
~~~~~  
Weeks passed and Sherlock enforced the name Sherlock, refusing to answer to anything else. He missed school more often then he was there and retreated into himself, deciding never to open up to another person again.   
~~~~~  
Years passed and memory of Ingrid became simply a locked room of his mind palace that refused to be deleted. He tried drugs, cigarettes, alcohol. He would’ve killed himself if an officer named Lestrade hadn’t saved him and had him help on cases.   
When John Watson showed up, he was so desperately lonely he couldn’t help but move in with the man. He couldn’t do it. He’d already fallen in love and it had nearly killed him. Yet everyday he grew closer and closer with John. On the night in the pool, he realized that he’d grown sentimental. He tried to stop it but he couldn’t stop it. He had to get away. The fall was the only way. Yet he found himself only thinking of John as he disassembled Moriarty’s web. Doing what he did for John. After Magnussen, he knew he would never see John again. He had to tell John that he loved him as much he’d once loved Ingrid.   
“William Sherlock Scott Holmes,” he said, “In case you’re looking for baby names.”   
He knew John wouldn’t understand what it meant for him to say this, he would always just think it was Sherlock being odd and terribly trying to lighten the rather heavy mood; but Sherlock understood, and that’s all Sherlock needed to know.


End file.
